Anyone who knew Martin Roberts arrived at the same conclusion about him; not the sharpest tool in the shed, but certainly the sweetest young man you'll ever meet. He lived a simple life in the humble, drive through town of Melton, New Mexico, making his home in a single-wide mobile home just a mile from the mill where he worked.

Like clock work, Martin would finish his shift at the mill and walk a narrow trail home that would take him through a 5-acre parcel for sale and right past Mike's Dairy Freeze, his favorite place in whole world. Mike, the owner, was a gruff man with little patience for most of humanity. But he put up with Martin's slowness and repeated questions. Perhaps it was because everyday Martin would plop down his quarter, dime and nickel to get a kiddie cone of pistachio ice cream. He liked everything about the sweet delight except for the nuts. He would pick those out every time he licked his way to them.

“Are you going to sell your field today, Mike?”

“Could be, Martin, could be. How come you don't eat the nuts?”

“I don't like nuts. I only eat the good stuff."

It was their daily conversation.

One day Martin was making his usual way home though the dusty field toward his ice creamy rendezvous, when his eye caught something sticking out of the ground. He stopped and looked at what appeared to be the edge of a crate or a large box. After a few minutes of brushing dirt and twigs away he was looking at an old wooden chest, free of any markings or a lock. Martin looked around cautiously to see if anyone was watching. Sure that he was completely alone, he opened the half buried box and looked inside. To Martin's surprise it was filled with pieces of gold and silver, some old coins and dozens of rings and bracelets. The sun's reflection off of the shinny pieces of treasure lit up his whole face. Martin let out a laugh of joy. After looking over the precious contents, he looked around again, then covered it back up. He had found something special, almost as special as pistachio ice cream without nuts. He continued along the path toward his usual afternoon destination.

“Are you going to sell your field today, Mike?”

“It could happen today. Are you going to eat the nuts today, Martin?”

“I don't like the nuts. I only eat the good stuff.”

Martin started in on his cone then looked at the ice cream shop owner with a smile. “Can I buy your field, Mike?”

Mike looked at his best customer quizzically. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I'm going to dig up buried treasure.”

Mike smiled at his sweet but slow friend. “Buried treasure, huh, Mike? You got a good imagination. Tell you what, you buy my land and you can have all the treasure in it. How's that?”

Martin thought about it for a moment. “Do I have to buy all of it? Can I just buy the part I want?”

Mike laughed. “I'm not selling part of it, Martin. If you want the field you have to buy it all. Parts you like and parts you don't like, the good and the bad. That's the way it is. The price is $2,000. You got $2,000 Martin?”

The simplistic Martin wasn't sure. But he was going to find out.

Mike didn't see Martin at his shop for over a week. Martin was busying himself with selling what few possessions he had and saving up his daily ice cream money for something more lasting. Finally all that was left was Martin's mobile home. Two days later, it sold, bringing his entire cash total and net worth to $2,155.18.

Mike never saw a smile as big as the one on Martin's face when he showed up the following afternoon.

“I'd like to buy your field today, Mike,” exclaimed an excited Martin as he put a bag of money on the counter.

“I guess it's going to happen today,” said the surprised land owner.

Today in Melton, a two-story house sits where a vacant lot used to be. It's the house next to the new Mike and Martin's Dairy Freeze where they always have a special on pistachio ice cream. With or without nuts.